


One Night

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Bottom Harry, Burlesque Dancer!Harry, Cheeky Harry, Exhibitionism, Horny Zayn, Lapdance, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rich Zayn Malik, Solo Artist Zayn, Strip Tease, Teasing, Wingman Niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2446289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'This is Zayn,' Harry introduced his new play-toy to his crowd as he turned around and seated himself brazenly on Zayn's lap, his back flush against his chest." </p><p>Or, better known as the one where Harry's a renowned Burlesque dancer and Zayn's completely enthralled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this filthy number. Feedback is always appreciated! You can follow me on [Tumblr](http://hrrystylesd.tumblr.com) if you fancy.

He hadn't frequented such an establishment before, mainly because he never felt the need to. He rarely had to seek out pleasure, what with pleasure coming to him easily in the form of soft-skinned, toned, dark-haired male beauties who were eager to give him anything he wanted. But recently, he had found himself too busy to partake in any activities that would distract him from his writing. Basically, he was too busy to even consider having sex with anyone. Sure, people had come onto him at after-parties and nights out with his friends, but he'd refused anyone who'd approached him. Partly because he didn't have the time to ravage someone into the early hours of the morning, and partly because all who came onto him were mediocre, at best. 

Call him conceited, but he only ever settled for the best. And recently, it was looking like every beautiful lad in London was hiding in the shadows, away from his searching eyes. So that night, as he stood out in the cold wintry air with Niall, Liam and Louis, he hoped and prayed that what Désir had to offer him would satiate his thirst.  


He had been informed by a reliable source that Désir housed the best male Burlesque dancers in England. Said reliable source had also said that the dancers were overly zealous when it came to taking home some of the clubs attendees after their show. He'd been to a Burlesque show before, when he had gotten his first pay check from his song writing, in fact. Liam had dragged him to a small club in London where he'd had a woman roll her hips and suckle his neck, all for a price. Most Burlesque clubs didn't offer one-on-one gigs, but Désir did. He hoped that it wouldn't come down to him having to pay to get himself off. 

As the four entered the Victorian-esque building, with its red, leering windows, Zayn took one last breath of the sharp, pure night air before he entered the house of sin, pleasure and adultery.

The interior was nothing but exquisite. Everywhere he looked, Zayn saw luxury. From the chandeliers glistening down from the ceilings to the cup of complimentary champagne he had been handed the second he had stepped foot onto the ruby red carpet. It was his metropolis. 

Men in full suits waltzed around with trays of decadent snacks, each of them more gorgeous than the next - offering winks and beaming, welcoming smiles up freely. 

"Wow," Liam had whispered quietly as they continued walking through the halls of the antiquated house. "You'd be doing alright in life if you found your future fuck-boy here, Zayn," he continued, with a sharp elbow into Zayn's side and a bellow of laughter as Zayn felt himself flushing. Part of him almost felt like he was overstepping his own worth by being there. But, as Niall had drunkenly said to him once upon a time, "If I were into lads, mate, I'd ride you, and I'm sure every other straight lad would, as well!" He knew he was attractive, and had been told so for his whole life. He'd had women thrown at him and men thrown at him so often that he felt like he hardly ever had to go looking for it anymore. And that's what he enjoyed. The chase. He yearned to feel the adrenaline rush through him as he tried his hand at pulling a lad for the night. And he'd hoped with all his might that the adrenaline would soon be surging through his veins as they were guided to their seats by a gentleman named Connor, and told that the show would be starting in fifteen minutes.

As they all sat down at their table in the main showroom of the club, Zayn scanned the room. No one stood out to him, but he couldn't deny the fact that there were handsome men everywhere he looked, just not men he'd ever go for. 

"How about him?" Niall nudged Zayn's side and pointed to a table near the stage. Seeking out the man Niall had scouted, Zayn screwed up his face and shook his head, "Do you know me _at all_ , Niall?" Zayn jeered, smiling over his glass of wine as he took a sip and relished in the deathly glare Niall threw him.

They joked between themselves and ordered enough food fit for an army as they waited for the show to start. He'd noticed that some of the men in suits he'd seen earlier had changed out of their tailored suits and were now prancing around in black lingerie. Louis' eyes almost fell out of his head as one waiter in particular bent down to pick up a napkin which had fallen off of a guest's table. "This is incredible," he snickered at Liam, who nodded dumbly beside him.

Zayn glanced over at Niall, who sat nursing his pint quietly. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked boldly, all too well knowing that this wasn't what Niall would put down as being the best night of his life. Frowning at Zayn, Niall shrugged his shoulders, "Bro, I'm here because you need to get a dick before you drive us all up the wall, that's all I'm here for," and even as he said that, he cheekily winked at a passing waiter who had proceeded to nod his head and smile at Niall. The other three broke into fits of laughter as Niall felt his cheeks burning red.

But just as their fit of madness had unfurled, the lights from the chandeliers were dimmed and a spotlight appeared slowly on the center of the stage.

Louis clapped his hands together, "Right, lads! The show's about to begin!" he smacked Zayn on the back, causing some of his drink to spill out of his glass. 

Just as he was about to hiss at Louis, he stopped himself in his tracks as a track of slow, sensuous jazz began to fill the showroom. His eyes were drawn to the two figures who waltzed out onto the stage. One sat on the chair, the other hovered above him with his hands on his shoulders. 

The announcer introduced the act as the Satin Devils. As soon as they began dancing and swaying about on the stage, Zayn was entranced. His eyes followed their every move, never pulling away for a minute. "Jesus," he had mumbled quietly as one of the Satin Devils had teased the other with a simple strand of silk. Zayn crossed his legs in an attempt to dispel any unwanted arousal. But given his dry spell, anything was going to get him riled up. 

As the Devils had bowed and taken their leave from the stage, and the announcer gave information on how to book a private show, Zayn turned back around in his seat to find Niall scribbling the information down on his napkin.

"What are you doing?" Zayn asked.

Niall looked up, concentration contorting his face, "Taking those lads' details down, you can't _not_ want a go at one of them!" Niall exclaimed, giddy with excitement over his friend getting laid.

But Zayn furrowed his brow and shook his head, "No, they weren't good- Well, I mean they were _good_ but not what I'm after," Zayn explained as he caught Louis' eye roll out of his peripheral.

More acts came out and cavorted on stage, and none of them struck Zayn as being particularly amazing. As it came to the last act, Zayn had even already told Niall to find the napkin he'd taken the Satin Devils' details down on. 

Downing a shot of whiskey with the other three, Zayn dragged his hand across his mouth and sighed heavily. "Chin up, pretty boy," Liam interrupted Zayn's inward strop as his arm swung around his shoulders and pulled him hard against him. "There are plenty of fish in the sea waiting to be hooked," he continued as Zayn glared at him. The alcohol was worsening his mood rather than lifting him up, and Liam's lame attempt at cheering him up caused him to roll his eyes and turn to look at the stage as the final act was announced.

"Gentlemen!" bellowed the sultry voice of the announcer. "Our final beautiful boy has been dancing for barely a year and yet he has been the biggest act to draw in numbers to date!" whoops and cheers followed as the announcer paused and pumped up the late-night, rowdy audience. "Hailing from a small town in this beautiful country, I present to you, the vivacious, the dashing, the _beautiful_ , Harold Holliday!" Zayn joined in with the thunderous applause, glancing around as he did so. The applause continued for a longer period of time than it had with any of the other acts that night, he noted, and this filled him with hope. As the lights dimmed down for the last time and a track sliced into the applause of a slow, soft, seductive jazz tone, Zayn sat back and prepared himself to be blown away.

The music played for a minute or so, before it softened. 

One pointy-toed leg poked out of the red curtain on the right-hand side, and was followed by a large white ostrich feather fan. Covering himself with two large feather fans, the dancer shook them flirtatiously as he stepped lightly across the stage, making sure to keep his steps slow and light.

The feathers continued to shake as he kept them in front of himself and swayed to the soft sounds. Deciding it was time to give his people a peek, he opened up his arms quickly to reveal his full ensemble before pulling the feathers back against his body. This was met with catcalls and whoops. He relished in one idle shout of, "Off!" and pulled the feathers down slightly to reveal his face and wink cheekily into the bright lights, where the audience was seated. Laughter erupted as the source of the shout was pushed and tugged at by his friends at his table. Zayn allowed himself to glance over briefly at the table and was relieved to find the source of the shout to be rather ugly and unappealing. He snapped his eyes back to the stage and leant forward eagerly in his seat, waiting for Holliday to get into the swing of his act.

The feathers continued to shield him from the prying eyes of the audience, each movement and reveal of a body part getting more creative than the next. But it was time to toss the feathers aside.

First he tossed one into the wings, and twirled around with the other one held flush against his body. Then he stilled, "What do you want, Désir?" he shouted out as he went over his routine in his head. Hearing the audience mumble his answer, he tutted loudly, "No, no, no! Shout! Let me hear you! I said," he dropped the last feather and held his arms out as if to embrace his audience, " _What do you want, Désir?_ "

"HAROLD HOLLIDAY!" The crowd bellowed and whistled and jumped up out of their seats as he pranced around the stage in his lingerie for all to see.

Zayn was awestruck. His eyes traveled from the man's fantastic legs, up his torso, to land on his face, which was equally, if not more beautiful than his body. He wasn't crazily buff, nor was he soft, he was a perfect in-between. Tattoos decorated his sallow skin, and a beaming smile accompanied his sensual movements perfectly. Light yellow thigh highs graced his ridiculous legs, and were held up by a lavender-coloured garter belt which sat over his tight lace panties. Zayn felt as if he needed to physically push his bottom jaw back up to meet his top. Harold Holliday was _the one_.

His show involved a lot of crowd interaction, which Zayn loved. He'd gyrate and sway about to a classical piece of music one time, and would then proceed to call out a member of the audience for wearing a ridiculous hat. 

His segment went far too quickly for Zayn's liking. As Holliday blew kisses to the crowd, Zayn could've sworn one of said kisses were directed towards him. 

"I'm coming down!" he announced to the crowd as he took a hold of a gentleman's hand and stepped off of the stage with grace, posing amongst the crowd as he did so. "You're all so beautiful!" he commented as he weaved in between the dimly lit tables, squinting his eyes as he examined all of their faces. 

Liam banged Zayn on the back, "Get him to you, get him over here!" he shouted excitedly, and gestured Niall and Louis to start making a commotion to attract Holliday's attention. The two imbeciles obeyed and joined Liam in making absolute fools of themselves as they waved their arms around and shouted in Harold's direction. 

Zayn felt his stomach flip as Holliday turned around, frowning. His face soon lit up, however, when he paid attention to Zayn's three used-to-be friends. Zayn wasn't shy when it came to wooing or attracting lads, but as it turned out, when it came to beautiful lads, Zayn felt sick to the stomach with nerves. 

Within seconds Harold was at their table, chatting to Louis, who had thrown his hands towards Zayn, who had remained seated the entire time, unlike most of the men in Désir at that moment. "Fuck," Zayn said to himself as Harold waltzed over to him with an air of confidence. 

"Hello, Zayn," he beamed as he bent down and kissed Zayn lightly on the cheek. He knew his name. He knew his name and Zayn wanted to die. Holliday didn't move away as he pecked his cheek, but moved his mouth to Zayn's ear and whispered seductively to him, "My real name's Harry and my dressing room is number 7 if you wish to see me after the show," as Harry pulled away, he was biting back a truly shit-eating grin as he winked cheekily at Zayn.

Zayn gazed up at him, his eyes dark and pupils dilated as Harry's two hands flowed down his shoulders, to land on his wrists.

"This is Zayn," Harry introduced his new play-toy to his crowd as he turned around and seated himself brazenly on his lap, his back flush against Zayn's chest. Harry rolled his hips excruciatingly slowly, and Zayn couldn't stop his mouth from doing anything but falling open. He stared down at Harry's lingerie-clad hips moving against him and marveled at the way in which they rolled and pushed against him with such ease. His hand gripped Harry's hip roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh on his hips, "Shit," Zayn breathed heavily as Harry continued gyrating on his lap. 

"Ooh," Harry cooed happily, meaning for Zayn to be the only person to hear him as he felt the all-too-familiar hardness pressing against his arse. "Naughty boy," Harry tutted as he gave one last roll of his hips and went to stand up, but was stopped as Zayn reached up from behind him and dipped his finger cautiously into Harry's ready mouth. Harry smiled as he happily sucked and lapped at Zayn's finger. Staring at those beautiful plump, rosy lips engulfing his finger, Zayn imagined what they'd feel like around his cock. He bit back a curse.

Harry pulled away then, feeling like the crowd had gotten their money's worth. He bowed to the applause around him, and before he went to return to his place on stage, he looked down at Zayn, saying quietly, "Number 7. Half an hour," and with that he was back up on stage, having roses and crumpled up pieces of paper with phone numbers on them tossed at him.

Zayn remained in the position Harry had left him in, in disbelief. Part of him questioned what the fuck he had just partaken in. Was it a form of public exposure? Fuck if he knew, all he knew right then and there was that his ears were ringing, he was sweating, and his cock was harder than he could ever remember it being.

"Zayn! ZAYN!" his friends jumped around him, pushing each other about and falling over themselves in drunken laughter as they rejoiced in their friend receiving a sexually explicit lap-dance. 

Zayn ignored them and stared at Harry, who had picked up a white rose from the ground and placed it between his teeth before taking multiple bows and exiting the stage much like the way he entered, with beauty and grace.

As the ringing in Zayn's ears continued and the crowds of people emptied onto the late London streets, Zayn shot up out of his seat and made to find his way to room number 7.

He was going to fuck Harry like he'd never been fucked before.


End file.
